Despite the assurances of the doctor and Mr. Doyle, Katharine was not well by the following morning. Though her complexion had gained some colour, she was still far too unsettled to eat that morning. The reappearance of both Mr. Evett and Mr. Ackerman set her more ill at ease so that she was not able to eat that afternoon. By dinner, she had resolved herself enough to eat lightly. The next morning, a great bouquet of flowers, supplemented by a note from Mr. Doyle wishing her quite well and wondering at her lack of resilience thus far, did a great deal to heighten her spirits. However, Mrs. Windham refused to allow her to retain possession of the flowers, and they were quickly disposed of. This reminded Katharine again that she must avoid Mr. Doyle, but even despite the disconcertion this brought, she was soon within her sensible self again.

It seemed that Mr. Evett had been waiting upon that very thing, for it was not a day after hearing Katharine was well that he called at Hambledon and requested a private audience with Katharine. Mrs. Windham merrily accepted the request for her, and Katharine soon found herself alone in the sitting room with the gentleman.

She stood near the window, poised so she could see both Mr. Evett and the out-of-doors without a turn of head. She was unsettled again, yet also resignedly ready to accept what she knew was coming. Propriety and her mother dictated she must, thus she would.

He rambled on for some time, for though he was by nature a man of few words, he was also a man of tradition. Katharine’s resolve held strong, even as he finally kneeled before her.

He did not take her hand as he said, “And, Miss Windham… you are a very fine young woman to whom any man would wish to be married. Miss Katharine, I am highly honoured that you have chosen me thus far, and I would be even further honoured, indeed for the rest of my days, if you were to accept my hand in marriage.”

She noticed that not a word concerning love or affection had passed through his lips in the entire course of this meeting, and suddenly her tenacity was gone. Though she tried valiantly, she could not force her mouth to form a word of affirmation.

Finally, she found voice enough to say, “And sir, I am in turn honoured by your proposal. If you would, please do me the favour of allowing me some time in which to consider your request.”

He appeared only mildly surprised. “Of course, Miss Windham. Take all which you find that you need.” He bowed and was gone.

Upon hearing what had transpired, Mrs. Windham was furious with her daughter. She asked a thousand times over what was wrong with Katharine that she should not accept so quickly!

Mr. Windham was quick to intervene. “Emmeline, my dear, she did not deny him either. She merely wishes to give him all assurance of her sincerity, I am sure.”

Mrs. Windham was instantly pacified by this news, but still reminded Katharine that she should be quick in her contemplation and hasten to accept Mr. Evett’s proposal with all possible grace.

Katharine had not even a day to resolve herself to accepting Mr. Evett’s proposal. For before the afternoon was even out, another man called at Hambledon to speak with Katharine. Ackerman came in with much less grace than Mr. Evett, and asked Miss Morgan for Katharine. He then directly requested a private audience with Katharine. After assuring herself that her mother was not presently around, she accepted.

“I hear that Mr. Evett has proposed to you,” said he bluntly.

Katharine could not deny it, and Ackerman was instantly angered. “I did not accept him!” cried she quickly. “I told him only that I would consider it!”

His anger did not vanish entirely, but enthusiasm did come into him. “Well, then!” said he. “Marry me!”

He had not even knelt down, but had half-shouted the words at her with lack of all grace. His motivations too seemed impure – pressured by a great fear of losing her to Mr. Evett. Katharine despaired at once, and then realized the implications of what he had asked.

She fainted instantly.

When she came to, Miss Morgan was supporting her head, and Mrs. Windham was also in the room, demanding at once to know what had happened – was Katharine ill again? Ackerman’s expression was dark towards Katharine.

“I’ll… consider it,” said she to him with struggle.

Mrs. Windham understood at once and was taken speechless in her anger. Ackerman excused himself from the room at once.

Katharine’s greatest wish at present was that she had remained unconscious with a mouth incapable of speech.

Mrs. Windham was quite in hysterics for the entirety of the day and was not to be appeased. Mr. Windham tried in earnest but was a great distance from success with his incessant pleading, which his wife was entirely able of ignoring and even overpowering.

Under this constant besieging from her mother, Katharine could not find it within her to be well at present. She did not faint again, which was heartening, but she soon found it necessary to retire to her bedroom, being helpless to remain standing. Miss Morgan, an aide and a certain godsend, was her only connection to the outside world.

Even on the morrow, matters were yet to be settled. Mrs. Windham’s hysterics had yet to be subdued and Katharine was yet ill, but she could not bear to remain within the confines of Hambledon through whence her mother’s mad cries echoed. Katharine took to the out of doors while her family dined on a meal she could not bring herself to partake of. Travelling down the back hills of Hambledon, she turned to the unfamiliar east, away from the westerly road which was oft a meeting place between Ackerman and herself. After some time, the surroundings were unfamiliar and she found herself looking upon a grand estate and house which she had never before beheld. They were beautiful, the house, built of grey stone, so mysterious yet it also made her bizarrely merry.

Katharine had stood in awe for several moments, wondering that such a place existed so beyond her knowledge, when she became aware of a figure moving down the hillock before her, not a great distance from where she stood. He moved rather swiftly and it was not many moments before she distinguished Mr. Doyle. Though Katharine was sure she should take sick and faint again, she did not.

“Miss Windham!” he hailed when he was near.

Her face was handsomely composed when he reached her and she wished him a good morning.

“How great and wonderful,” said he, “that I should meet you here, for I was just on my way to call at Hambledon. I heard you were unwell again, and I daresay you look rather pale. Pray, how are you?”

“I have been healthier than I am at present,” she admitted briefly.

“Good heavens, Miss Windham. I say, I find it astonishing that you remain so ill. You are such a wondrous, spirited young woman as I find it a true wonder you should ever be ill, much less lastingly so.”

“Sir,” replied she wryly, “if you were to know my mother, you should certainly understand my affliction.” Or, perhaps, if he knew of her situation, which it appeared that he did not.

Doyle laughed briefly. “For you, Miss Windham, I am exceedingly remorseful. Such misfortune should have no place in the life of such a marvellous young woman such as you.”

Katharine coloured and changed the subject. “Were you walking to Hambledon, Mr. Doyle?” She wondered at his lack of even a horse.

“Indeed I was. I always walk to Hambledon, for as you see, it is not far from Mordha Braonain and the scenery is rather delightful.”

Katharine looked to the house behind him. “That is Mordha Braonain?” asked she. “Why, Mr. Doyle, it’s magnificent! I find it astonishingly pleasing!”

“Lonely,” replied he. “’Majestic sorrow,’ but sorrow nonetheless.” Doyle’s gaiety faded rather abruptly, giving rise to an acute seriousness in its stead. “Miss Windham, I have a… most peculiar request to make of you. I know you hold no good opinion of me and assuming otherwise would be only groundless flattery to myself, so I do not pretend to consider this proposal anything other than selfish and foolish.” He paused briefly. “But I do love you, Miss Katharine, and I do wish you would accept my hand in marriage.”

First to fall was Katharine’s stomach, followed in quick succession by her mouth and lastly her entire body. She wilted to the grass below, fainted by a proposal a second time. She was not conscious of Mr. Doyle, instantly concerned for her health, lifting her into his arms and beginning the trek to Hambledon as quickly as his feet could carry them.

Katharine was reviving whence she was carried into the sitting room of Hambledon. Miss Morgan was quite astounded by Mr. Doyle carrying Miss Katharine in the door and was consequently speechless. He likewise said not a word by way of explanation but watched attentively after Katharine.

Her first words inquired the whereabouts of Mrs. Windham, whom she did not hear. She and Mr. Windham had gone out, said Miss Morgan, to visit with Miss Milton, she suspected. That was fortunate, for Katharine had no doubt that knowledge of Mr. Doyle’s proposal would only serve to send her into further fits of hysteria, and that would come soon enough.

Then Katharine, after assuring Mr. Doyle she would be in consideration, politely sent away him from Hambledon.